


Repercussions

by GreenRogue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gangbang, Guilty Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24946732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenRogue/pseuds/GreenRogue
Summary: re·per·cus·sion: an unintended consequence occurring some time after an event or action, especially an unwelcome one.Dean should know better then to piss off the locals. Should know better then to piss them off-- then let Sam fend for himself.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/OMCs
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: Sam Winchester Prompt-a-thon





	Repercussions

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SamWinchester_Prompt_a_thon](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SamWinchester_Prompt_a_thon) collection. 



> oh boy, okay, I've done non-con before but this was a first for me. I think I did okay, constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. To fill a claim that's a bit late for the birthday month but wanted to try something outside my comfort zone
> 
> As always I do not own SPN or the characters, I just like to hurt them.

* * *

“Oh man! Another lucky shot! Tonight, must really be my night!” Dean grinned stupidly towards his latest mark as he leaned heavily against his pool cue. The college frat kid was practically beet red as he watched Dean sink the eight ball with ease. His friends behind him weren’t fairing much better after already losing the contents of their wallets. This had been the third game in a row Dean had “luckily won” and he eyes them closely around his beer mug. Guess this night was tapped. Setting the now empty mug on a wobbly table, Dean clapped his hands loudly and overacted a belch, pulling disgusted looks from the patrons around them.

“Whelp boys, its been fun. ‘fraid the missus might be missing me. Travel safe now ya’ll.” He mock saluted them as he backed up towards the bar, the wad of recently won cash stuffed in his jacket pocket. The last jock tossed the pool cue on the table and muttered darkly under his breath before finishing his bottle of beer and turning his back on Dean. A bright smile, and waggle of eyebrows later he tipped the bartender, got her number, and was happily making his way towards the Impala parked safely in the back of the lot. He stopped for a second and peered into the backseat with a soft smile.

In the semi-darkness, Dean could make out a small pocket flashlight on the floor. Its dimming light illuminating the dirty footwell and the dropped mathematics book. On the seat, sprawled as much as possible for the rapidly growing boy, was Sam. 17 years old and the kid would rather sit in a quiet, cold car than go into a bar for some good ‘ol fashioned underaged drinking. Shaking his head to himself, Dean whistled a quiet tune as he rounded the car and got into the drivers side. The rumbling comfort of the engine slowly brought Sam out of la-la land and through the rearview mirror, Dean watched as he stretched his long limbs before sitting up and looked around blearily. Dean leaned over the back of the seat rest and smiled at him as he slowly backed baby up.

“Have a good nap sleeping beauty?” Dean spotted the group of frats standing outside the bar doors watching him leave. Just to be the condescending prick that is he is, Dean gives them a little finger wave before chuckling and pulling away. Sam was leaning against the front seat backrest now, eyes bloodshot but awake as he snorted at Dean’s antics.

“Piss off another one De?” Dean shrugged and turned on the radio.

“No more than usual Sammy—no more than usual—”

* * *

It was late the next morning when Dean finally felt like rolling himself out of bed. The motel curtains were still drawn (bless you Sammy) but cracks of sunlight were able to filter in, rousing him from his sleep. He stretched stiffly before rolling out of bed and clambering towards the bathroom. It couldn’t be any later than noon—maybe one—still plenty of time to clean up a bit, do a grocery run, and maybe beef up their stockpile of rock salt cartridges before picking Sam up from school. They’d been here for maybe two weeks now, their Dad leaving them behind for a quick research run with Caleb. He said it shouldn’t take longer than a few weeks and he’d be back. By Dean’s count there were still a few days before worry should really start to set in, though maybe he’d send a quick text to Caleb—just to see how he was fairing with the grumpy Winchester. Snickering to himself a little, Dean grabbed his cell ready to rib his friend when he saw he had a missed text from Sam.

Senses on high alert he opened the message and frowned when all he found was a web link and the simple phrase:

**_You gotta see this_ **

Searching for Sam’s laptop, he impatiently waited for it to boot up as he tried responding back to Sam.

**_Sammy, you okay? What’re you doing texting in school? –DW_ **

**_That’s not like you little brother –DW_ **

**_Sammy, you good? –DW_ **

Trying not to freak out, he quickly and carefully typed in the web address and drummed his fingers on the linoleum tabletop while it loaded. He occasionally eyed his silent phone, worry and frustration building in small increments from the lack of response.

‘ _He’s just in the middle of some test or something—nothing to freak out about--.’_ Finally, the page had finished loading (stupid lame-ass wifi) and was confused when the whole screen was taken up by a black video screen, the image frozen on the word _REPERCUSSIONS_. Arching an eyebrow, he clicked on the play arrow and sat back in his seat, waiting for whatever mystery it was that Sam sent him. He idly thought about grabbing a beer (5 o’clock somewhere) but froze when the image of a man’s face suddenly filled the screen.

He assumed it was a man, though most of his face was covered by some cheap costume mask. He watched as the figure seemed to fiddle with the video display before he stepped back with a wide grin.

“Why hello there Dean-o. Hope you don’t mind me calling you Dean—didn’t exactly get your name when you hustled us. How’s the wife? We wanted to get her to teach you this little lesson but—guess this is the next best thing.” The man had stepped to the side to reveal the scene around him and Dean felt his heart drop to his stomach as he leaned forward, begging the video to be a lie.

There, hand tied above his head with rough rope to the ceiling, was Sam. His face was black and blue, one eye swollen shut. His mouth covered with layers of packing tape so Dean could see the redness of his skin underneath. His bare chest that was covered in scratches and bruises was rising and falling slowly, unconscious it seemed at the moment, but Dean had a gut feeling it wouldn’t stay that way for long. He was flanked by two others, also wearing masks and staring at the camera with sadistic smiles on their faces.

The original speaker cam back into view again, this time much closer to Sam’s prone form. He stood just off to the side so Dean could still see Sam, could see the way the man’s hand lightly traced it’s fingers up his stomach, over his chest, and settled easily around his throat.

“I gotta say Dean—it’s not very nice cheating hard working citizens of their money without a chance of earning it back. Now you have a debt to pay—since we can’t get you, or this so called wife of yours to pay, I think a little brother will do just.fine.” His last two words were punctuated as he ripped off the button of Sam’s jeans and yanked on the fly. Dean startled in his seat and clenched the worn tabletop tightly, the sound of cracking plastic echoed in the silent motel room as he watched the other two men pull the pants down, baring Sam to the room.

‘ _Stay down little brother—please tell me he didn’t wake up—’_ The third man exited the camera frame for a second and Dean was left staring as the two silent others were running their hands over their clothed crotches and Sam’s flanks. He watched Sam’s face as small twitches of consciousness stared to show. ‘ _No, no please--.’_ They stepped back just as a splash of water was thrown in Sam’s face, he jerked and sputtered back to consciousness, head shaking back and forth to dispel the water from his face. There was a clatter of a buck and the third dead asshole reappeared laughing.

“Wakey, wakey Sammy—you don’t mind if I call you Sammy do you? Your brother doesn’t mind, do you Dean?” The man turned back and stared directly back at the camera with a vicious smile. Dean startled and looked around the motel room, a growing feeling of being watched settled over his shoulders and his fingers itched to grab his gun. “That’s right Dean-o, we’ve learned a lot about you in the couple of hours little Sammy here has been out guest.” Dean could hear muffled shouting from Sam and he strained to see around the man to see what the other two were doing. “We’ve learned so much, but the most important question we saved until you could join us.” The man inched towards the camera, Dean caught a quick glimpse of Sam’s face as one of the men grabbed his chin and licked a hot strip across his cheek and whispered in his ear. The unknown words made Sam’s twisting form freeze for a second, pleading eyes zeroing in on the camera and straight into Dean’s.

“What we really want to know Dean—is your brother a virgin—“. Dean couldn’t take it, he turned away from the laptop and grabbed his phone again. He dialed Sam’s number, praying this was some sick joke. Sam was fine, Sam was in school learning all the nerdy things he needed to learn to be some big shot somebody—he was fine, he was, he was—

A ringing started on the screen the same time his phone was dialing, and he slowly turned his eyes back to the shit show in front of him.

“There’s the man of the hour—” The echo from his phone and the laptop made his head ring and he had to mute the computer. “I was starting to think you were going to sleep the day away, honestly surprised you didn’t wake up when we took dear Sammy for a ride this morning”. Didn’t wake up? They must have staked out the room, must have seen Sam come out on his own, ready for school.

In three great strides, Dean was across the room and throwing the door open into the sunlight. Just across from the door the Impala sat as it ever had—and just on the hood sat Sam’s backpack. He slammed the door shut and clenched the phone in his hand.

“What do you want—” He could hear Sam grunting in the background, and he turned quickly, a perverse need to see what they were doing to his brother. Belatedly he saw the red _live_ indicator on the lower right side of the screen and kicked himself a little for not noticing sooner. One of the men was behind Sam now, his hands gripping the skinny hips as he humped slowly against Sam’s exposed ass. The other was on his knees in front, his head bobbing— “GET OFFA HIM! – I swear to go if you touch him I’ll find you and rip your lungs out! WHAT DO YOU WANT?” He saw Sam jerk and look around wildly until he focused again on the camera and shook his head slowly before closing his one good eye in shame.

“Now, now Dean—don’t get testy or we won’t let you witness the result of your actions—we’ll just leave you with the aftermath, if there is anything left that is. Now—if you haven’t yet, sit down, and shut.up.” Dean did just that, his legs numb as his ass connected with the uncomfortable motel chair. He held the phone close, eyes burning from the lack of blinking.

“Please—please leave him alone—he’s just a kid—“. Dean hated himself a little for begging, for showing these monsters a sign of weakness while they had his little brother, but he couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the hot feeling of guilt as it scorched his throat. He swallowed heavily and squeezed his eyes closed. “If—if you want your money back you got it, with interest—whatever you want, just please—“. The man wagged his finger at the camera and shook his head sadly.

“You should have thought of this before you fucked us over. Now you have to pay for your actions Dean. That’s how the world works, every action has a reaction, and you can’t stop it no matter what you say or do. Just relax—enjoy the show, I know we’re going to.” With that the man ended the call and Dean watched as he tossed the phone off camera before he turned back to Sam.

The one connection he had with Sam—the only way he had to communicate and let his little brother know he wasn’t alone, and he wasted it—wasted it with nothing but hot air and pleas for mercy— Dean rushed to turn the volume back on, on the computer. The man who was sucking on Sam’s cock had leaned to the side now, Dean could see him fondle Sam’s balls as he deep throated the kid, forcing reactions from his restrained body. The one behind him had his pants around his ankles now, one hand holding his hips still while the other—Dean could only perversely hope—was prepping Sam for the inevitable.

As much as Dean wanted to shut the laptop, shut it, break it, toss it out the window and hunt for his brother, he couldn’t. He couldn’t abandon Sam like that—even if Sam didn’t know he was there, Dean would know—Dean would remember taking the cowards way out and leaving Sam to have these nightmares on his own. Sam’s sudden yelp pulled Dean back to the present and he watched as they ripped the tape off of his mouth, the same moment the guy behind him started to thrust.

“Please, please stop—please take it out, it’s too big, it hurts. Please, PLEASE—DEAN!” The men around him laughed, one of them slapping Sam across the face while another sucked on his neck. The man behind him pistoning quickly, the slap of skin a horrid bass line to the cacophony of noises coming from the computer speakers.

“That’s it little boy, c’mon Sammy, fuck you feel so good. So tight. Good little bitch. Take it, take it like a bitch—fuck!” The man behind him slammed a few more times before grinding tight against Sam. He was grunting, teeth locked tightly on the skin of his shoulder. Dean was chewing on his lip so hard a bead of blood was slowly trickling down his chin.

‘ _One down—god Sammy—I’m so, so sorry—‘._

The second dead man that had been between Sam’s legs was standing now, he was slowly jacking his cock as Sam cried, he had turned his head into his restrained arm, trying to shut out the men around him. Sam’s dick was red, standing erect from his body and one of them laughed and gave it an opened handed slap on the head. Sam’s body jerked and he shouted in pain.

“Looks like the little bitch is enjoying this, ain’tcha slut? You like the feel of a cock up your ass, breeding you, filling you with cum. Maybe we should take you back to the house, let our brothers have a go at ‘cha, you’d like that you little bitch? To be used like the cum dump you are. You should thank your brother—thank him for helping you get put in your place.” Sam was shaking his head violently, his body trembling from the stress as the second man yanked him backwards and Dean knew the second, he had breached his brother. Sam’s good eye went wide, mouth open in surprise but no noise came out. This one was much gentler than the first, choosing to pull and push Sam’s limp form on his dick. Trickles of blood from Sam’s torn wrists cascaded down his elbows and Dean could hear small grunts being forced from Sam’s throat. The second didn’t last much longer than the first and Dean was guiltily glad for it. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could get to Sam—get to Sam and get the hell out of here, Dad be damned.

‘ _Fuck—Dad—‘._ Dean fumbled for a second before he had his phone back on, his finger poised over the call button. He hesitated—what was he going to say? How was he going to tell the man he admired and loved that he’d failed—Dean set the phone back down. This was his mess, he’d deal with it—repercussions right?

The original dead asshole—the talker—was whispering in Sam’s ear again. Words too low for the feed to catch them for Dean but he watched as silent tears tracked down Sam’s dirty face. The last asshole looked at the camera with a smirk and took his place behind Sam. Dean could see the man’s lips moving but it took a second for his words to register.

“Guess what Dean—he was a virgin. Not so much anymore though, this ass is wrecked.” Dean could see the man pull Sam’s cheeks a part as he stared at Sam’s ass. He must have put a finger inside by the slight jerk of Sam’s body. He smacked Sam’s ass a few times causing a few whines of pain to slip out. The man smiled at the back of Sam’s head before connecting eyes with Dean again.

“If you want your damaged property back –unnh fuck—come to 435 Broadway blvd—thir—shit you are tight—third warehouse on the left.” Dean knew— _he knew—_ he should get up, race baby to the warehouse and kill each of those motherfuckers while he still could. But he remained cemented in his seat. He watched as the man slowly entered Sam and carefully pulled out. He moved slowly; head tossed back in ecstasy. Hands were roaming up and down Sam’s heaving chest.

“Fuck you feel so good—so good Sammy, such a good cock slut. Fuck I’mma make you feel so good—” The man’s hand was wrapped around Sam’s dick, it had flagged at some point and the man chuckled. “None of that now baby—lemme make this better.” Dean watched as the man grabbed one of Sam’s legs and raise it slightly. The change in angle gave Dean a better view of the man behind him. The shadowed view of the man’s cock as it slowly worked its way in and out of Sam was mesmerizing to Dean and he couldn’t look away. The man must have been searching for Sam’s prostate because after a second there was the sound of a surprised moan and Sam’s dick had suddenly rejoined the party.

“Fuck that’s it baby, you like it—you fucking love having your ass stuffed with cock. Made for it Sammy baby, made to take dick like the bitch you are. Fuck you feel so fucking good, clench like that again, yeah that’s it. You gonna cum for me? You gonna cum on my dick?” The man’s rhythm picked up, the cock in Sam’s ass slamming home at least every other thrust, the hand on Sam’s dick picking up speed. Dean watched in morbid fascination as Sam came. Ropes of white cum spurt from his little brother as a broken litany of no’s, and please were whispered past dry, bleeding lips.

Quickly Sam’s hands were cut free and he fell like a puppet without its strings. The talker, the ringleader, grabbed Sam’s hair and held his face in front of his crouch as he stripped his cock quickly.

“Open your fucking mouth you little slut.” Cum splashed across Sam’s face and in his hair. He sobbed and tried to pry the fingers from his hair with his still bound hands. The man laughed and groaned through his orgasm before tossing Sam aside and smiling back at the camera.

“Was it good for you?” The feed went dark, it took a minute before Dean’s feet were moving of their own accord across the room, out the door and into the impala. His mind was mostly blank, just a constant circling chant ‘ _Save Sam, save Sam, savesavesavesave—Sammy—‘._ This shit was fucked up, it was fucked up beyond human reason but the only thing that mattered at that moment, ‘ _Get to Sam’._


End file.
